Life Behind the Curtain
by ChiaraBrie
Summary: Her world has been one of closed windows and heavy curtains since she was young. Every aspect of her life has been decided for her, and it seemed like nothing would change when she was purchased as a gift for Prince Zuko. But all is not as it seems in the Royal Palace. Dark serpents and hidden desires begin to change Katara's world. Shedding light can breed heavy shadows.
1. The Future Between the Sheets

**Life Behind the Curtain**

By: ChiaraBrie

**Disclaimer: ******I do not own any rights to Avatar: The Last Airbender. This story is purely fiction, from a fan.

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Summary: What if there was no Avatar, and the Fire Nation took over the world?

Katara of the Southern Water Tribe's life takes a turn for the worst when, in desperation, she is sold as an apprentice concubine in the Fire Nation. She is then given as a present to a returning Prince Zuko, whose long banishment was finally at an end. Can this pair of tortured souls find comfort in each other? Can true love really change everything?

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_"In pious times 'ere priest craft did begin, Before polygamy was made a sin; When man, on many, multiply'd his kind Ere one to one was, cursedly confined; When Nature prompted, and no law deny'd Promiscuous use of concubine and bride" - John Dryden_

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Chapter One: The Future Between the Sheets

She has been training for this day as long as she could remember.

Since the days when her hair grew long past her shoulders and her baby skin began melting off, Katara had been put to work. It was not the back breaking conventional work of her fellow tribesmen—she was not training to be a fisherman, a warrior, or a healer—she has been groomed for a different life.

In a lot of ways she considered herself lucky; things could be a lot worse. The reality of the world she lived in was as cold and unfeeling as her frozen homeland, and she had been given the opportunity to become something more. Well, not _given_, but rather _forced_ into the opportunity. She had no choice.

She remembered the tearful winter day all those years ago when her Gran Gran held her close and let her cry. She told her that she was leaving the only home she knew to help earn money for the family. She told her that she was special, and that special people could not stay in monotony; they were meant to bloom in other places. She told her not to cry, that everything would be alright in the end.

She told her a blatant lie.

Katara could not understand how things could be ok if she was not with her family. She would miss her brother and father and Gran Gran and her mother…well, she missed her mother everyday but that was a different matter. But they all told her this lie to make her feel better, as if the truth of her situation was a simple fact of life she would have to learn to deal with. But oh Agni, she was only seven years old at the time.

How was she supposed to understand the way men were looking at her? She was too concerned with playing and laughing with her friends. How was she supposed to realize that the Fire Nation soldiers made frequent visits that year not for war related reasons, but under direct orders from another world of trade she didn't know existed? How was a little water bending girl supposed to protect herself, when her own father was powerless to do so?

They had no choice. The Fire Nation ruled them all, and there was no point in trying to fight an angry dragon. Their whole civilization, as well as the rest of the world, was plummeted in poverty. There were nights that the small family went hungry. There really was nothing left but pieces of a once great puzzle.

And so, with a heavy heart, Chief Hakoda of the Water Tribe signed away his little girl in the hope she would _have_ a future—good or bad. It was the best he could do.

Katara was taken away from the only land she knew to a strange new place across the ocean. The weather was warm, the beaches were made of sand, and there were flowers blooming everywhere. It was as horrifying to her as a nightmare. She would get used to it, they told her. She would learn to love it here, and love her new life.

Why was everyone always so sure what she would feel? There were times she didn't even know herself.

Yet, in all fairness, she didn't have much time to feel sorry. The second she landed on a tiny island off the Capital shore she was pushed into her new world. The island was smaller than she thought at first. There was only one house in the center of the land. It was large and elegantly decorated in colors and designs she had never seen before. Where was all the soothing blues? It seemed like everything from the homes to the people of this nation were constantly alight like flames.

Time for a bath, they told her, and took her to the tiny hot springs behind the house.

The old woman who washed her was cruel, the exact opposite from the comforting hands of her Gran Gran. She scrubbed her scalp till it bled, while explaining how dirty water tribe peasants like her always carried disease.

_Disease? But I'm not sick,_ Katara thought at the time. She was too naïve to understand the bitter hatred between the different nations. She would learn it soon enough.

When she looked back on her life here in the "school" (that's what they called it), she should have known how it would have played out after that first bath. Akane, the nasty old woman with the claw fingers in her scalp, would make the next years of her life just as painful.

Katara would learn skills she never thought were important, such as learning to arrange flowers or how to get stains out of satin. Akane woke her each morning with the sun, giving her tedious lessons any young girl would suffer through. Who needed to learn how to set a table properly? Back home, they were just happy to have food _on_ the table—with or without an intricately folded napkin.

But this was her life now. This is what she would have to do, whether or not she liked it. And those moments at night right before she went to bed and that notion of hopelessness entered her heart, Katara would cry herself to sleep.

Some days were better than others. Over time, she began to excel in her lessons. She could play any instrument with ease and grace. She could sing a lovely tune that would make a nightingale stop and listen. She learned how to serve and cook food for all occasions. But that's not all.

When she turned ten years old, her lessons began to change.

Akane woke her up around midnight, and ordered Katara to come with her. Still rubbing the sleep from her eyes, the dutiful water bender followed her teacher to a part of the house she never was allowed to see before. The lavish "school" was in the front, but in the back hallways lined with red velvet and golden curtains there was an entirely different world she never knew of.

_Be quiet, or it will be hell for you tomorrow_, whispered the crooked old woman as she led her along to a large intricate door at the end. Slowly, Akane opened the door without letting a creak escape the hinges. She dug her claws into Katara's hand, and shoved her inside. Before her was a heavy velvet curtain which contained all the light from the other room besides one tiny sliver down the middle.

Akane kneeled Katara in front of the part in the curtains, and turned her eyes forward.

In the center of the room was a giant bed, covered in silk sheets and satin pillows which were strewn all over the floor. There were empty bottles of wine, fruit, and a thick smoke which billowed out of the incense hanging on the wall. But it wasn't the room that captured her attention.

It was the woman who was crying out in – was it pain? She wasn't sure—as she was bent over on all fours. Her face was contorted in a strange mask, and her breathing (like that of the man behind her) was labored and coming out in heavy gasps. Then she began to scream as the man continued to pound into her, his pace quickening and becoming stronger with each second.

Frightened, Katara hid her face in her hands.

The moment she did so, Akane grabbed her fingers and tore them away. However, her sharp nails caught her sensitive skin beside her left eye, and it tore deep into the flesh leaving a thin cut. It began to bleed, and Katara knew she would have a scar there for the rest of her life.

_Watch and learn,_ the old madam told her. _This is what you are for. This is what you will become._

And so Katara watched until the end, when the man cried out and fell on top of the woman, both of them panting from exhaustion. She watched as the man got up and walked away, leaving her on the bed to clean the mess herself.

She saw her future in the sheets.

When Akane finally felt she had seen enough, she led her back to her bedroom on the other side of the school. Katara went into the tiny bathroom she had access to, and wiped off the blood that caked around her left eye. When she was finally clean, she got sick and threw up her evening meal. She cleaned herself again (even this simple act reminded her of the woman wiping up the mess in the sheets,) and tried to fall asleep.

From then on, her lessons were entirely different.

She learned the intimate ways a woman could please a man. She learned that what attracted men in the streets needed to be a subtle version of what attracts them to a bed. She learned how to say things in a clever manner as to entice a man both mentally and physically. And years passed in this fashion as Katara grew.

And now, years and a million lessons later, she was finally ready.

Akane had seen the value in Katara, although she spent half her time telling her how worthless she was. Katara was an exquisite beauty, and Akane had to admit that with or without training men would pay a handsome fee to be with her. Despite her tiny frame, she filled out her clothing with plump breasts. Her long ebony hair was rich, and cascaded over her shoulders like a waterfall. And her eyes—that was the money maker—her eyes were a deep ocean of secrets which enticed anyone who cross them into her stare.

She would make Akane a fortune.

As expected, Katara did not fail her. Last week the "school" was visited by none other than Fire Lord Ozai himself. He was a patron, but he came during the day on a completely different mission. His son Zuko was returning home after a three year banishment, and his wished to throw him a proper party.

_He is a man now,_ the Fire Lord told the madam, _ and he needs to experience every aspect of that manhood before he can be groomed to take my place. _

The sparkle in Akane's eyes told Ozai she understood, and took him to see some of her most prized and experienced students. But Ozai rejected each one. _She needs to be pure_, he told her. _She needs to be as fresh as the plumberry on the Summer Solstice. _

Again, Akane's face lit up. Selling virginity always came at an amazingly high price, and who better to buy it than the wealthiest man in the world? _Do not worry my Lord, I have the diamond from the Southern Tundra. Exotic, well taught, and breath taking. And most of all…completely untouched. _

She would be shipped to the Capital Island the next evening.

The entire day was devoted to her preparation, painting her face and weaving her hair into intricate patterns. Akane packed a few of her things she would need, like the next morning formula she concocted to prevent children, and sent her with the palace escort around sun down. Akane would spend the rest of the night counting her earnings.

But for Katara, the night was just beginning.

She was first brought to the Fire Lord's massive throne room, whose heavy velvet curtains reminded her of other times and made the scar prickle near her eye. Ozai was seated behind a wall of fire, and said nothing as he observed her.

"Most honored Fire Lord," said Katara in her practiced speech as she knelt down in a respectful bow, "I have come at your bidding. I am yours to command."

Ozai's laughter sent a chill up her spine. "Yes, yes you are. But for tonight, it is my son who shall do the commanding." He waved his hand and a servant appeared beside her. "Lead her to Prince Zuko's bed chambers. He is almost finished with his dinner."

The silent servant nodded and motioned for Katara to follow. She kept her eyes down as she went through the halls, trying not to betray the nerves she felt. Finally, after what seemed like a maze of twists and turns, she was let into a grand bedroom.

It was different than she expected. It wasn't dark or gloomy like the rest of the palace. Prince Zuko had all his windows open, giving easy access to the large balconies that lined his room. Katara took a moment to revel in the moonlight, trying to draw strength from its glow.

Sighing, she turned away from the window and began her work. She closed all the curtains, and lit the candles around the room. She then went to the bathroom and undid a day's worth of beauty. She let her hair cascade down her back. She took off the makeup and jewelry and washed her face. She undressed from the rigid clothing she had on, and wrapped a thin, silk robe over her form. After splashing scented oils on her neck and wrists, she made her way to the bed to await Zuko's arrival.

Thankfully for her nerves, she did not have to wait long.

The door to the bedroom slowly opened, and heavy footsteps echoed throughout the room as Zuko came in.

"Prince Zuko," whispered Katara in a sultry tone. She had let her robe slide off her shoulder, revealing the brown soft flesh hidden underneath.

"I have been waiting for you."

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Author's Note: To be honest, I have no idea how or why I am writing a new story. I was in the middle of writing a chapter for my epic, and then bam! The inspiration train hit me. I have never written anything like this before. I usually stick to the ATLA story line, but I like using the characters in a different dimension. I am not entirely sure where I am headed with this. It could be just this one chapter, or maybe ten, depending on how I feel.

But I would love to hear some feedback, so please leave me a review.

_ChiaraBrie_


	2. The Mirror

**Life Behind the Curtain**

By: ChiaraBrie

**Disclaimer: ******I do not own any rights to Avatar: The Last Airbender. This story is purely fiction, from a fan.

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_"Princes are fighters or administrators. Neither of those things do much to spread joy in the world. Whores, concubines, and catamites, on the other hand, are all about giving satisfaction. Now granted, sexual pleasure is a temporary sort of happiness, but it is better than a new tax or a sword in the gut." ―Jill Knowles_

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Chapter Two: The Mirror

There were many scenarios that Katara was prepared for.

She was taught in her lessons the many "interesting" ways men found pleasure. There were some who enjoyed wining and dining, and who enjoyed the façade of a normal date. Others were enticed by role playing, where they would want their whore to become someone different from themselves.

But this time, as Prince Zuko drew the broad swords from his back and pointed their tips at her throat , Katara was at a loss.

"Who sent you? My father or my sister?" he snarled at her. In the semi darkness of the room, it was hard for her to make out his features, but his physique was towering and intimidating. She took this as a game. Perhaps he enjoyed combat to the point where he brought it into the bedroom. If the scar on his face was any indication of his fighting past, she wondered what the rest of him would be covered in.

Katara gave him a coy smile, trying to feed into him. She leaned forward on the bed, exposing more of her shoulder and the beginning of her cleavage before she spoke.

"My Prince, you seem so tense. Why don't you lie down –" But before she could finish, he threw one of his swords in the air which landed with a ping in the wall behind her, an inch from where her head had been.

"Answer me!" he screamed at her, and the candles in the room exploded with his fiery rage. For the first time since he entered she began to think he was really serious. Did he not know how these things went? She understood he was a virgin, like she was, but surely all men must have some concept of what the deed entailed.

When Katara didn't respond, he quickly advanced on the bed and threw away the sheets, revealing the empty mattress beneath. She was flung to the side, her robe rising up to her knee as Zuko frugally searched the bed for something he couldn't find. Next, he pounced upon her with the swift and sure movements of a warrior on the battlefield. He grabbed her right wrist and raised her arm up until she was level to his face.

"If you have a weapon, I cannot imagine it would be concealed in this." He indicated to her silk robe. "So you must be a powerful bender. Tell me, were you expecting to lower my guard before you attacked? Did they really think I would be so naïve?"

Katara's eyes widened as she met his amber gaze for the first time, her heart pounding. When she finally found her voice, she heard her practiced sensual tone mask any discomfort she was feeling.

"I believe you are mistaken, My Prince. I am not here to—"

"Liar!" he screamed as he tightened his hold, eliciting a small gasp of pain from the water bender.

"Please, if you would only—"

"Another thinly veiled attempt to get rid of me again. It didn't work the first time when he sent Azula to lovingly bring me home years ago, and it won't work now. Tell me before—"

"_Listen!"_ yelled Katara, raising her voice for the first time. The instant the word passed her lips she felt her heart drop into her stomach.

There it was again.

_Insolence!_ Akane would yell at her. _Disgrace! No man will ever want a woman so defiant, so disrespectful!_

No matter how many times the old woman would starve her, or beat her, there was still a fire inside Katara that would not be put out. She was dutiful enough, but certain situations would play with her sense of self preservation to the point where she could not hold it in. And here again, on the most important night of her career, she let slip her darkest secret: she had a soul beyond what was paid for her body.

This was something she promised never to reveal to any client she would have, and in the arms of the banished Prince she had already failed. But all hope was not lost. She could recover; she could play this into another game. It was what she was trained to do. Zuko finally took a moment to breathe when she screamed at him, giving Katara the opening she needed.

"I am no assassin, but if that is what you want from me, I will play my part." Relief. She sounded like she was supposed to.

Suddenly the Prince's eyes widened in shock, and he lowered her arm. She watched as his eyes scanned the room, taking in the aroma and the setting. She could see on his face a wave of understanding.

When he finally let her go, Katara quickly brushed down her hair and straightened up. "Oh these games you want to play will be the end of my wardrobe," she said as she indicated a tear in the silk.

But the Prince did not want to play with her. Instead, he pulled his sword from the wall, and sheathed his blades with a fluid movement. His once fiery rage became a somber flame; he wouldn't even look at her.

"I'm…sorry, if I hurt you."

Despite everything he threw at her that night, those words were the only ones to truly startle her. Was there true sentiment in his tone? Years of experience told her otherwise. And yet, as she watched this scarred man before her open the window to let in the moonlight and begin folding the sheets that were strewn on the floor, she felt something stir inside of her that she hadn't felt in a long time.

She had been fourteen, and was trapped on the island since she first arrived. After months of subtle remarks and pitiful begging, Akane had finally allowed her a visit to the Fire Nation capital. She would be allowed to do the shopping for the school, but must only visit the market and come back. Never had she felt such excitement.

The day had begun calmly enough; the sun was shining and the sky was clear. She took the ferry over the tiny strip of sea where she found her destination sooner than she hoped. But fortune had smiled on her, and sent a horrific storm over the mainland as she shopped for her wares.

Others chose to run and hide from the onslaught, but not Katara. She reveled in her element, and the prolonged bout of freedom she was given. The ferry could not sail in these conditions. Instead, she strolled around the city, looking into shops full of wondrous and interesting things. She was almost a free girl.

However, the most magical moment was almost one of doom.

She had accidentally taken a wrong turn, and found herself in a dark alley, and she wasn't alone. There was a man who had followed her, and cornered her in the dark. _This is it,_ she had thought. How cruel could fate possibly be? On her one day of salvation she was headed towards utter ruin.

But there was a boy.

A boy with spiky brown hair and a thin stalk of straw in his teeth, who wielded the strangest weapons she had ever seen. He smiled a crooked smile and spoke with the air of someone who traveled the world and knew it all.

He was everything she wished she could be.

After rescuing her from sure destruction, he took her by the hand and showed her the rest of the city. It seemed he didn't mind the rain either. He took her to try foods she had never tasted. He showed her the royal palace where the Fire Lord lived. He gave her a beautiful flower (which she didn't remember him paying for, and they did leave the shop rather quickly after) that looked like a flame in her hand.

And as night crept on and the rain began to relent, she knew her time was up.

He walked her back to the ferry port, watching with sad eyes and she gave the ferryman her ticket. _Leave with me_, he whispered in her ear as he pulled her into an embrace.

_Let's see the world, together. Leave with me, Katara._ He pulled away and gave her a kiss—her very first—and held her in a way she didn't know was possible.

He promised to come for her in the night, and she had said yes.

Akane had given her a beating she would never forget when she returned, almost a full day later, soaking wet and annoyingly pleased. She didn't care that the ferry was not running, or that Katara had no control over the weather; she had beaten her anyway. But as the woman brought blow after blow upon her, she was smiling inside. She knew this was the last night she would ever have to suffer again. Soon, she would travel the world.

She waited all night by her window, squinting in the moonlight for a shadow that would never come. Night after night for a month she would scan the tree line for him. Night after night she did something she had not done since she was with her family.

She hoped.

But he never came. And as quickly as the rebellious boy had stolen her heart, he had run away with it never to return. Thankfully she was young. Thankfully she got over her first heart break.

But she never got over the betrayal.

She had been betrayed by her father when he sold her away, and now the first person she trusted since then had let her down. Never again would she trust the words of another, no matter how real they feel.

And yet, with a soft whisper from the man kneeling on the ground before her, she felt her resolve soften for a moment.

_No._

As soon as it had come it left. She had learned to block such nonsense. Emotions only complicated relationships between people. Better to keep to yourself, where your soul can thrive forever. Where it could never be touched.

She slowly walked over the tiled floor, her shadows dancing from the light of the moon over his crouched figure. He did not turn around when he heard her soft footfalls, but continued to clean the mess he had made.

Tentatively she reached out a hand, making no quick movement to startle him. Katara's fingers found the collar of his shirt, where she slid her fingers down inside to the front of his firm chest. She felt him tighten with shock, and he finally stopped moving.

Gently, she nudged him around, bringing his face level with her stomach. Katara ran her fingers through his hair, traced a finger across his chin, and then gingerly up to the scar that covered the left side of his face.

There it was. The mirror.

She could see why she had faltered for a moment with Prince Zuko. In the minutes that it took for their exchange, she glimpsed something in him that she knew consumed her as well. And as the thin scar beside her own left eye began to tingle, she comprehended what it was—he was just as broken and tortured as she was.

But that was irrelevant at the moment.

Her robe dropped to the floor by her feet.

She had a job to do.

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Author's Note: This might be the fastest update I have ever done. I guess there is a story to tell here after all. I hope my retelling of the "Jet and Katara" romance fitted here. I tried to incorporate the same emotional ties she had to him in the show, such as the kiss and her feeling of betrayal, as well as her issues with trust that were connected to him. I also did not specifically name him, but tried to make it obvious. Hope my readers are all well versed ATLA lovers!

As always, reviews are love.

_ChiaraBrie_


	3. The Talons of the Harpies

**Life Behind the Curtain**

By: ChiaraBrie

**Disclaimer: ******I do not own any rights to Avatar: The Last Airbender. This story is purely fiction, from a fan.

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_"Blake said that the body was the soul's prison unless the five senses are fully developed and open. He considered the senses the 'windows of the soul.' When sex involves all the senses intensely, it can be like a mystical experience." - Jim Morrison_

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Chapter Three: The Talons of the Harpies

Prince Zuko was a distant lover.

Perhaps distant was not the right word. If anything, distance was the last thing between Katara and the Prince throughout the night. And yet that was how she remembered the entire experience.

When she first revealed herself to him in the moonlight, he responded appropriately. He marveled at her body, letting his amber eyes trail over her nipples, to her navel, and down to her sex which was almost level to his eyes. He gingerly felt his way up her smooth legs, squeezing the firm skin between his fingers and testing her resistance.

"To the bed," he told her, and she had listened.

He came up from behind her and used his hands to lean her forward until her hands gripped the frame. Katara stood still, waiting for him to move her where he liked, but for a while there was nothing. He simply ran his hands down her spine, relishing in the feel of her back arch instinctively to his touch.

After what seemed like an eternity, he flipped her over and laid her back on the mattress, his eyes never leaving her with his cold stare. There was something so formal about his movements, as if he were inspecting a prized animal for purchase at the market. But as he took off his clothes and folded them neatly on the night stand, Katara felt there was something else. She just wasn't sure what.

Prince Zuko was a beautiful sight to behold, despite Katara's attempts to keep her mind focused. _No matter how handsome, or charming, or tender a man can be, understand there is one goal. Do not allow yourself to indulge in such fancies. Those are not permitted for the likes of you._

Akane's student tried her best to behave.

If she said it didn't hurt, that would be a lie. Katara certainly felt the acute agony her sex must endure during these times. Yet she tried her best to show happiness and ecstasy, faces she had to practice in the mirror for days on end. Give too much, and they know it's a lie. Give too little, and they feel unwanted. All is for their benefit. All of it is a show.

Perform.

Yet the Prince seemed unconcerned either way. He took her that night with the confidence and assurance of a man who did not need any instruction; perhaps the presumption of his virginity was wrong. His large hands knew their place, as well as other areas of his body.

He was the perfect gentleman, for a whore.

The night wore on in this fashion, until both the fire and water bender were exhausted and spent. It was early in the morning, before sunrise, when Zuko finally stood and went to his wash room, leaving Katara alone amongst the damp sheets. He had not said a single word to her the entire time.

While he was gone she gingerly rose from the bed and made to stand, only to find her inner thighs shaking from pain. It wasn't that he was particularly rough—she had heard horror stories from her schoolmates about their first times—but he was not careful either. She would surely feel this way for a while, unless she was able to heal herself soon.

Since she was never allowed to practice her bending, any and all knowledge of her powers came through accidental discoveries and hidden attempts to practice. It took a particularly cruel lesson the first month of her time in the Fire Nation for her healing abilities to be discovered. But without a master, and only snippets of information from their book collection, she has been unable to develop her bending to its full potential; perhaps she would not be skilled enough to handle this type of affliction.

She wouldn't be allowed to clean or touch herself anyway. She needed to return back to Akane for her final examination "fresh from the sheets" so to speak. After a virgin is taken, her purity needs to be validated before and after by both client and proprietor; beforehand to insure her value, afterwards to conclude its disappearance. In this case, the sheets would remain for the palace maid to give to her superiors; she in turn would wear the proof for her teacher and doctor.

And as she stood erect and a drop of blood trickled down her leg, she wondered if there was much difference in her worth to that of the Fire Prince's silken sheets.

Carefully Katara dressed, and swallowed a spoonful of Akane's morning concoction which tasted like mud and acid, with a hint of garlic. Zuko had yet to emerge from the bathroom. When she heard the bath tub begin to fill, she knew he would not come back for a while. She then turned to the bed, and began to fold and clean up the evidence of their night. She made sure everything was in its proper place, because it would please the man behind the bathroom door.

She specialized in pleasure.

She noticed how meticulous he was with his belongings, either from good grooming or severe obsessive issues she was not sure, but it would be disrespectful to leave it otherwise. Katara did not mind the work; if anything, the first few years of her lessons were finally going into use. There was a glass of wine that had spilt during the evening, and she used her bending to extract the stain. Akane would have recommended a different method, but whenever possible Katara enjoyed utilizing her skill. Despite raising Katara for almost her whole life, Akane had no knowledge (or interest) in the fact that she was a water bender. She simply ignored it, like an unwanted weed in a vast garden.

But there was someone in the room who found her gift to be quite the surprise.

"Fucking and cleaning all in one evening. My, my, father knows how to get our money's worth."

Katara whipped around quickly, causing a serious pain to shoot through her sides. There in the farthest corner of the room, shrouded in the darkness of the velvet curtains, were the pointy clad feet of a woman. Her hands were folded in her lap, and her thumbs twirling slowly over one another.

To the left, Katara noticed the bedroom door slightly ajar. She must have just sneaked in as Zuko began to run the water, otherwise she would have heard.

"Who are you?" she asked her.

"Come now, don't tell me you don't see the family resemblance."

The woman leaned forward from the shadows and the light washed over her face to reveal the white mask of the Royal Princess Azula. Her mouth was turned upwards in a twisted smirk; she was enjoying herself.

"Maybe this will help," she said as she mockingly covered her left eye. "_I must find the Avatar to restore my honor_." Her sickly laughter shook Katara to her core. But still, she remembered her place. As quickly as the pains allowed she went down on her knees in a formal bow.

"My Princess," she said.

"Oh you are smarter than the others. Perhaps that's why ZuZu chose to take you to his bed. Before he was banished Father tried many different whores, but none seemed good enough for him." Azula rose from her seat and marched over to the kneeling girl with long and sure strides.

"Maybe he _finally_ is a man after so long. Wouldn't you agree? Tell me, was he any good?"

Katara did not respond. She knew that Azula wanted no answer; she only wished to hear the sound of her own voice.

"Huh. Perhaps I was wrong about your intelligence after all."

In the other room, the splashing sound of Zuko emerging from the bath was faintly heard. Katara turned her head to the door, trying to decide how to respond, but the Princess spoke first.

"When he emerges tell him our father wishes to have breakfast with him in the west wing. You will be let out the back, where the carriage will take you back to wherever it was you came from."

"Yes, Princess."

Katara made the mistake of locking eyes with the woman, unable to break away from her gaze. She knew it was impudent to do so, but there was something so innately evil about her that she could not tear herself away. Azula looked back at her, and then to the wine she cleaned up, and once again broke out into a smirk. In another moment she was gone as quickly as she had come, just as the handle to the bathroom turned.

Zuko emerged fully clothed. He did not ask why she was kneeling on the ground, but instead made his way across the room. His eyes noted the folded sheets and tidied room, and she could swear he seemed almost…grateful.

He stood before her and put his hand inside his robe, and extracted a thin blue ribbon with a circular blue pendant.

"I believe this is yours," he said as he held it out to her. "It fell off during—well, during."

"My moth—my necklace," she said, quickly trying to cover her excitement at its discovery, and her shame for not noticing its absence sooner. She didn't want him to know it was her mother's. Again, it was another piece of her soul that he had no right too. Yet again she slipped! And if he asked, she would have to tell him.

"This was your mother's?"

_Shit._

"Yes, it was hers."

"And isn't this an engagement necklace?"

"Yes."

"Then why is she no longer wearing it? Surely you have no use for it."

_Bastard._

"Because the dead have no need for such lavish jewelry."

One day, one happy and lucky day, she would learn to watch her tongue. But instead of the reaction she expected, she watched the harsh lines on Zuko's face soften. Was it her imagination, or did he regret his words just as much as she regretted her own? Certainly if that were true they regretted for different reasons.

He kept his mouth shut as he folded the piece in her palms, lingering on her fingers a minute too long to be accidental. The silence between them was deafening.

"You…are requested in the west wing, to dine with your father," Katara whispered as she tied the necklace around her throat, just remembering her orders from before. Zuko did not say another word, but turned on his heel and left her there alone to wonder about the strangeness of it all.

* * *

The return to the school went according to schedule.

She arrived in the morning and was instantly herded into an empty room where her examination would take place. Seated against the wall was the official capital doctor, who would conduct the exam to make sure there was no beguilement on the madam's part.

He was a stout man with a long white beard and a bald scalp who wheezed when he walked. He told her to disrobe, which she did, although Katara felt it was unnecessary to be entirely nude to do the procedure.

She watched as the doctor took her form in with his eyes, and knew that he enjoyed his job too much.

His cold hands found their way between her legs, entering the sore and tender flesh which caused Katara to gasp.

_Quiet_, Akane's gaze told her.

When he finished his examination, he told Akane that all seemed to be in order. He would report back to the Fire Lord of the success of their transaction and testify that indeed she is no longer intact after the events of the evening.

Katara let out a breath as the man left, and suddenly felt acutely tired. She put her clothes back on, and made for her room. But before she could leave Akane spoke to her.

"You did well," she said.

It was the closest thing to a sincere statement the woman ever said to her. Akane walked over, and put her infamous claws around her shoulders.

"But if you did your job right, we should be getting a call within the next few days for another appointment. I hope you did not disappoint the Prince." She squeezed down hard on her shoulders to emphasize this point.

_Or else._

* * *

Luckily for Akane, and Katara, there was a message waiting in the hall the next morning. She was requested again that very evening.

"And so soon!" cried the old woman. The giddiness in her voice made Katara sick. The message made her worry.

Career wise this was an excellent step. Yes, she made a good impression with her first sale, especially to the royal family, but this kind of attention usually indicated there was a possibility for a permanent position. If a man enjoys his whore enough, he would buy her from the madam and keep her as his own personal concubine. This was the highest dream she could hope for—or rather, she was supposed to hope for.

There was still her soul screaming for escape, for freedom. But that tedious thing kept getting in the way of her reality.

She also could not deny her ego the small satisfaction. Katara could have sworn that the Prince detested the act almost as much as she did. She saw it in his body, with the way he moved when he was on top of her. All mechanical, all product of a lesson taught.

Just like her.

But there was the moment when he held her hand; where his body softened for just a second to allow a small glimpse behind the screen. Was he intrigued by her? The train of thoughts she had all day indicated she was intrigued by him, although her personal rules would not allow it.

Before she knew it, she was getting prepped again for another night. The same routine of hair and makeup and clothing was almost comforting to her. There was a strange sense of solace in such repetition. Katara believed it helped calm her nerves.

Once again, as the moon raised high into the sky, she made her way to the Royal Palace. Already the lavish red walls and plush carpets were becoming familiar to her as a tiny servant led her along.

"In here, Miss," he said to her, indicating to a tiny red door on her left.

This was not Prince Zuko's room.

In fact, this barely looked like a door against the wall. But when she turned around to ask if there was some sort of mistake, the servant had vanished. Hesitating, she slowly opened the door to reveal a blackened room with one lone fire burning in the corner.

"Tell me, whore, do you enjoy livening on a secluded island like a leper?"

That voice. It couldn't be.

"Because if you do, I regret to inform you that you will not be returning there." Out of the shadows Princess Azula stepped into the light, an ominous greeting just like her first. Was it really only two nights ago since she had come face to face with such a demon?

"I'm sorry Princess, I do not understand. Where is the Prince?"

"Don't you worry, you will be returned to ZuZu soon enough. You and I need to discuss the parameters of your employment."

Employment? Katara was certain that there was more behind the word than what her job usually entailed, and she had just finally fulfilled the first part of it the other night! What fresh hell could possibly be upon her now?

"There are certain clauses in your contract that you need to be aware of. These are demands that come directly from my father, Fire Lord Ozai. You wouldn't want to upset him."

_I wouldn't want to upset you either,_ Katara thought. Azula began to circle Katara like a hawk, playing in and out of the shadows as she spoke.

"We have great need of you," said Azula as she came up from behind. Her warm breath tickled the back of Katara's neck, sending her hair on edge. Her left eye looked down to her shoulder, and she watched as the ghostly white hand of the Fire Nation Princess reach out and grab her.

"Don't you wish to…_serve_ your nation?"

The hand squeezed down hard on her shoulder, and Azula's long black nails dug through the fabric and into her skin.

It seemed she was about to leave the talons of one harpy for another.

* * *

Author's Note: Inspiration, you flow like a river this week! Thank you to all those who reviewed, it really set a fire in my heart to try and develop this tiny idea a step farther. Please don't stop!

I am trying to place tiny little parts of the real series into this universe whenever possible, such as Azula's mimicking of Zuko in this chapter. I hope you all catch them as they are thrown in.

Also, if there are any artists out there, I would love to have a cover piece for this story. If anyone is interested please PM me and let me know.

I hope you are all intrigued and enjoying so far. Until the next one,

_ChiaraBrie_


	4. The Appearance of the Master

**Life Behind the Curtain**

By: ChiaraBrie

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any rights to Avatar: The Last Airbender. This story is purely fiction, from a fan.

* * *

_"It's an essential part of training to provoke strong emotions. But as you know, one mark of a good slave is the ability to let the anger go and continue working, continue serving, continue offering respect and deference. Now, if the anger and shame and hurt can then change to love or affection or lust - well, that's our mark as a sadomasochist, isn't it?" - Laura Antoniou._

* * *

Chapter Four: The Appearance of the Master

_Down the hall, make a right; continue around the bend, four doors down on the left._

The instructions were simple enough, yet Katara was having trouble remembering them. _Down the hall, make a right…_

She stopped near a small crevice made by a giant flower arrangement to catch her breath. Her mind was still reeling from her conversation with Princess Azula, and she couldn't seem to get passed the clouds around her head. Looking down at her hands, it was almost like she could still feel the flames near her skin.

The conversation in the room behind the red door was blunt and concise—as well as blood chilling. _Just like Azlua_, she thought. It all seemed to happen in slow motion, yet it flowed over her like a raging waterfall that didn't allow her to catch her breath.

In the room, the Princess had released her talons from Katara's shoulder, only to pluck one of the flowers stuck in her ornamented hair. Azula had come around to face the water bender, holding the red lily inches from her nose.

"_Like this flower you are delicate, alluring, and appear harmless. That is the nature of a flower. That is the nature of a whore,"_ she told her in a drawling voice without pause. "_That is what we will need from you."_

Katara was instantly confused.

"_I'm sorry, I don't understand. Is it not my duty to attend to the Prince?"_ The smile on Azula's face made her instantly regret her question.

"_Yes, in a sense. For all apparent purposes you belong to Zuko. But he is not the one who paid for you. Remember that. Remember who you answer to. Remember who your master is."_

"_You, my Princess?"_

"_Precisely. And on a grander scale, the Fire Lord himself."_

Azula then placed the flower into Katara's hands, and continued to pace around her in silence. When she thought back on it that was the moment which scared her most: not knowing where the serpentine Princess was in the darkness or what was to come next. She was so preoccupied with the clicking of Azula's heels that she didn't notice the flame that began to consume the petals in her palms.

Katara gasped as the flower became a light in its entirety, slightly scorching her hands before she dropped it to the floor where it sizzled and burned out.

"_Fire is an excellent way to get rid of pesky problems…or people." _Again Azula emerged from the shadows, connecting eyes with the water bender.

"_But it leaves its mark." _ Katara looked at her palms, and noticed the black soot and slight redness the tiny flame left behind. It was nothing a little water couldn't wash away.

Azula let out a sarcastic sigh as she kicked the remains of the flower away from Katara's feet. "_Sadly, this was a lesson I should have learned sooner…"_ Katara could swear that Azula was speaking from experience, but couldn't figure out what it was regarding. What, or who, did this crazed woman burn down?

"_That's where you come in."_

Breaking from her trance, Katara emerged from behind the vase and smoothed down her clothes. She didn't have much time to linger; she was already late for her appointment with Prince Zuko.

"Continue around the bend…" she whispered to herself, repeating the directions out loud. It would not do for her to get lost in these labyrinth hallways. Thankfully, it wasn't long before she was at the door to his room, which was as tall and menacing as he appeared to be the first night she met him.

She was nervous to see him again, that was for sure. But remembering Azula, who could be anywhere in the palace, the other side of those doors offered a welcome haven. Even though they were siblings, Katara could sense an immense difference between the two.

She knocked lightly on the wood, letting the sound echo throughout the room, and waited patiently for a response. When she got none, she knocked again.

Silence.

Was he even there? What should she do? She certainly could not wait in the hall. And so, finding no alternative, she let herself in. The room was just as it was a few nights ago, everything immaculate and in its place—everything except the Fire Nation Prince, who was on his balcony with his back towards the door. He did not even turn around when she entered. Since he did not object to her presence, Katara took that as a sign to proceed.

"My Prince, what an honor it is to see you again."

Zuko turned his head to the side, acknowledging that he heard her. Was it her imagination, or were there traces of tears in his eye?

"So, is this going to be a reoccurring thing?" It took all of Katara's strength not to get angry with him. Anyone else she knew would love to have a beautiful woman kneeling at their feet, ready to please them however they wanted. Here he was, the banished Prince, who did not seem to care—or even want—to have such a gift.

"If that is what you want." Katara hoped the bitterness was masked behind her practiced tone. Finally Zuko turned to face her, and had a scowl planted on his face.

"What are you wearing?" he asked. Katara looked down at the lavish robes and jewels that she was decorated in, unsure of what he meant.

"Does…this not please you?"

"You look like polished prostitute."

Katara bit her bottom lip, holding back angry tears. Granted, her profession was not a noble one. In essence, she slept with men for money. But there was so much more to it than that. She was trained to please, in every aspect of life. She was groomed to be a prize for men, not a doormat which they wipe their feet on. It was the lowest insult to be compared to the women in the brothels, who had multiple clients throughout one evening; to be compared to the women who were used since they were children until they were too old to hide the wrinkles beneath the paint.

A trained concubine, such as herself, was viewed above all that. At least they were supposed to be.

But she would not let her tongue slip. Not again, especially with him. She had let too much go already. And so she took a breath, and looked him in the eyes. _Remember your training. _

_Perform._

"If it will make you happy, I will go undress."

Zuko looked away from her, ignoring her attempts of seduction. It seemed his mind was preoccupied with other things. He did not speak to her again, but returned to his brooding balcony leaving her to her own doings.

She decided she better go change. It was obvious he did not find pleasure in the whole charade of master and concubine. He responded last time when she was bare, in every sense of the word. And so she would try her best to duplicate that.

Katara let herself into the adjoining bathroom, and began to run a bath. With some difficulty, she undid the expensive robes she was tied up in, letting them fall in a pool on the floor. She pulled out the flowers braided in her hair, and winced slightly as she plucked out the pins holding them in place. Lastly she washed her face of the expensive makeup, revealing her fresh skin underneath.

When the water neared the edge of the tub, Katara turned off the faucets and lowered herself in. The hot liquid instantly defrosted her limbs which were tense with the day's activities. She could feel the muscles in her body loosen, and she tried her best to close her eyes and relax.

When she felt sufficiently clean, Katara emerged and reached for a towel. The swishing water made some noise, but she distinctly heard the sound of two voices outside the door.

"How is he?" That was Zuko's voice, and she could hear the desperation in his tone.

"The same, if not worse," came the high pitched voice of an older woman.

The sound of the large slamming door told Katara the woman had left. When she felt it was safe, she tip toed out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. Zuko was still pressed against the door where he had let out the guest, his hand raking through his mop of black hair. It looked like he was trying to pull it out.

"Is this better, my Prince," she ventured as she stepped into view, indicating to her natural state.

Zuko looked up at her, like he had forgotten she was even there. She watched his eyes, which again looked like they were threatened by tears, as they bored down into her.

"No. It may never be better."

Katara knew he was not talking about her.

Zuko moved from his place by the door, and came within an inch of Katara. She stood still as he ran his fingers through her wet tresses, and felt his way beneath her towel. He undid the tie which kept it to her body, and neatly placed it on the divan.

"Prince Zuko," she began to say, wanting to ask him if he was ok. Sometimes she forgot that her heart was not the only one bleeding in this world. And as she saw him come undone, from his clothes and within himself, she could see his wounds ran just as deep.

_What, my scarred Prince, has happened to you?_

He took her again that night with a ferocity that Katara had never known.

Zuko whipped her onto the bed and plowed into her all the pent up anger she had seen in him earlier; he rained down all that grief those old woman's words had given him. She did not cry out when his teeth bit into her shoulders when he exerted himself. She did not mind when he grabbed her breasts roughly, or when he bruised her flesh.

There was an immense sadness to the entire act, and she knew that on some level she was helping him. And despite what she wanted, or believed about herself, she knew that she felt something toward him. Something she had promised never to feel for someone 'above' her.

She pitied him.

* * *

When Katara awoke the next morning, Prince Zuko was gone.

There was nothing left from the night before but a few marks that were already fading on her skin. Thinking back to how they were caused sent shivers up her spine. She wouldn't say she enjoyed herself—so far, nothing sexual she has seen or experienced has elicited that—but she did not detest the act either.

For once, she didn't feel dirty.

Perhaps it was the _why_ of it all that changed. Her evening with the Prince was more than just business for him. This time, he slept with her to release his sadness, and to release his pain. And what's more—she joined him.

Granted it was a selfish act on her part. _Pleasure is not permitted for you, _Akane would say. But it was her little secret, no one had to know. Only Zuko. There was something so amazingly serene about living in the moment, letting the body act without the direction of the mind. Allowing the wounds which flowed deeply in both fire and water come to surface, and be released in sweet ecstasy, if just for a moment.

She had never slept so soundly.

But as quickly as the serenity came, it was disturbed. The bedroom door burst open without so much as a knock to reveal a pair of crouching old women with identical hairstyles and clothing enter the room.

"Up you get!" one of them said.

"Do not dawdle!" said the other.

Instantly Katara realized she was still naked beneath the sheets, and waited for the women to give her some privacy.

"Excuse me," she said to them, "would you mind?"

"No time! Lo will get your clothes. I have your breakfast." One of the women, Lo, left the room to fetch her things. Meanwhile the woman who remained, named Li, gave Katara a simple breakfast in bed. Before she had even finished, Li ripped the tray away and made room for her sister who carried the garments.

Katara held up the clothes they offered her, and was surprised to find a simple ensemble of black loose pants and a fitted shirt.

"I think there must be some mistake, surely—" she tried to say before Lo cut her off.

"Princess Azula picked these out herself. Put them on quickly, you don't want to be late."

_Late for what?_ She wondered. At the mention of Azula, she knew it could not be something good. She got dressed in the simple clothing, relishing the feel of free movement that she had not known since she was young. She was almost happy about the wardrobe change until Li reach up to her neck.

"This must go," she said to Katara, indicating her mother's necklace.

"Ok, I'll just put it with my things," she sighed as she took off the pendant.

"No, it must go entirely. It will not do to have a Fire Nation servant clad in anything other than the insignia. Surely you will not need this while you are here."Instantly Katara froze as she watched the woman snatch the priceless necklace from her hands.

"No, please, I won't wear it," she tried to say, but the old woman ignored her with quips about being late and needing to hurry.

"_Please,"_ Katara cried over their voices, anger rising in her like a flame. Li just turned and smiled, a smile that she had seen so expertly copied on Azula's face, and knew she was not getting it back.

"_Give it to me!"_ she screamed at them. The vases against the wall burst with explosions of water as Katara was unable to control herself. The two old women just stood their ground, obviously used to such childish outbursts.

"Come along," said Li, or Lo, Katara wasn't sure. And she didn't care. All she felt was an acute emptiness move in where only minutes ago a small sense of peace settled in.

She wished she could crawl back into bed.

Unfortunately there was no time for that. The old twins led Katara through the palace and out the back door, where she crossed a vast garden to a small house behind the tree line. In front of her, Lo and Li were attempting to have a conversation in whispers, as though Katara could not hear:

"I can't believe they let her out. I hope the guards will be enough."

"Princess Azula is not far behind, she can control her."

"But she did escape once. Can she do it again? Is this…_whore_, worth the risk?"

Both of them looked over their shoulders, and eyed Katara mischievously. She just stared back at them with blank eyes. She was used to this kind of talk around her. Lo and Li continued leading her to the house, which she noticed was heavily guarded for such a small space.

What were they expecting?

"Go on in," said Lo.

"Don't be late," said Li. As if the few steps she needed to take were going to waste much time. Katara gave them one last look of hatred before doing what she was told, and opened the double doors.

Inside was an open matted dojo with nothing decorating the walls. There was only one window, and it was a large opening above head. It shed light down like a curtain over the floor, shadowing the outskirts of the room.

What surprised her most was to find another gray haired woman kneeling down in the center, her long untidy hair covering her face. Her clothes were worn and ragged, stained with dirt and mildew on the trimmings.

When she lifted her head, Katara saw the saddened face of a prisoner, whose lips were dried and curled over large teeth as she spoke.

"They call me many things here. Names you have probably heard yourself. _Filth. Scum. Worthless._"

Katara moved forward to join the old woman in the light, trying to figure out just what it was she was doing here. She let the woman speak.

"Back home in the Southern Water tribe, they called me Hama."

_Southern Water tribe? She's from home! What is she doing here?_ It took all her restraint not to run to this woman, to beg of stories from her native land. It was the closest she has been to her home since she left. But the woman did not look happy to see her. In fact, she looked down right miserable. If she was working under Azula, Katara couldn't expect her to be pleased…

Suddenly it all fell into place.

"_There are those who cannot be trusted. We need a way to weed them out,"_ Azula had told her, back in the room behind the red door.

"_You will need to be quick, efficient, and most of all undetectable. If I sense any weakness, I will snuff it out."_

But what could that mean for a concubine? Unless Azula needed someone who could move where she could not; someone who could gain access behind closed doors; someone nobody would suspect.

"_There are many stains which need to be lifted,"_ she had told her.

Stains. Like the wine on the carpet that she cleaned the first night with Zuko. And Azula had seen it all, and understood what she was— a water bender. _Fire can leave its mark,_ Katara realized, _but water leaves no traces._

The kneeling woman named Hama rose before her, and raised her hand in the air. Swiftly, she made a wide circle, and brought her fingers before Katara; they were now coated in ice pulled from thin air.

"But you, Katara…you can call me Master."

* * *

Author's Note: I hope I am not being too vague in my writing. I don't like to spell out everything that is happening, but it is an author's job to give enough information to allow the reader to figure things out on their own. Hopefully that is coming across. However, if certain things are not clear plot-wise yet, that is by choice. I have to keep something for the next chapters!

Once again your reviews have really inspired me. Thank you to all that have taken the time out to leave me comments here. Your words mean more than you know.

_ChiaraBrie_


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